I want it both ways, don’t I?
“You can’t eat your cake and have it too.” That’s the original proverb, which makes more sense than the commonly recited, “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”
We want it both ways. That’s just the way we want it. Or not. We want great roads, good police, fully operable fire stations and convenient hospitals but we don’t want to pay for them. We want smart, inclusive, responsible leaders but we don’t want to vote for them. We want things to change, life to get better, peace on earth, and the world to become a more hospitable place, but we sure as hell don’t want to wait around for those things to happen. We want what we want, and we want it now. We understand the concept of patience, but who has time for that?
I play in a couple of fantasy baseball leagues and I usually want to trade or drop a player after an 0 for 4 game. But baseball is a long-distance love affair, not a one-night stand. I was never a fan of that infuriatingly slow tortoise, but damn if he doesn’t beat that much flashier hare every time. Sizzle sells, substance endures.
What does this all have to do with the price of coffee in Connecticut? Good question.
Speaking of coffee, I thought of a great name for a coffee shop whilst driving the other day. Mea Cuppa. I’m sure it’s been taken but I refuse to Google it and see my dreams dashed before my ether eyes.
But I digress.
Is it peculiarly American of us to want it both ways? Maybe, maybe not. Currently the streets around my estate are being repaved. You can smell it a mile away. Mmmm … tar. This means some neighborhood folks have to park their cars on side streets instead of in front of their lavish homes. Outrage! How dare they tell me where to park! These are the same people that whine ad nauseum about the crummy state of streets in Sonoma County.
We want a train, but we take every opportunity to rail (see what I did there?) against every aspect of its process. We want others to value our time but we show up 20 minutes late for lunch because the latest Internet meme distracted us. We express disgust at those kids at the next table glued to their phones while we check our email for the 50th time since we sat down.
We want to be heard, but we don’t want to listen. We want to trust, but … well, we actually don’t. Have we been burned so many items that it is difficult to believe that someone may be authentic, sincere and open-minded? Have we succumbed to “what’s his/her secret agenda?” so much that we can never take anything on face value? People are either too enthusiastic or too taciturn. Too upbeat or too gloomy. We want our kids to become independent thinkers and to express themselves, but we get our collective panties in a wad when a young, vibrant student has the nerve to upend the staid and dull graduation process with a poem written with the pulsing blood of her heart. Okay, say we, share your poem, but please change a few words here and there so as not to offend. ‘Kay? Since when did it become a poet’s responsibility not to offend? We want to be surprised and engaged but scoff when the … uh, stuff gets real and our preconceived notions are challenged. Not even repudiated, just challenged.
Maybe we just need to commit more to our beliefs, own our choices, even when they come with a little discomfort. I have allowed myself to be disappointed quite a bit lately, mostly because I feel those disappointers want it both ways – they want to say no, but also don’t want me to be take it personally. So, they just let the yes/no decision stretch out like taffy until it ultimately snaps of its own accord. I would rather you just tear apart my taffy in front of me instead of closing your eyes until the problem eventually dissolves, the decision is passively made and the problem oozes away. Because, let me tell you, these unresolved problems don’t really go away. They fester and burn and explode some way, some day, and in some place you are not going to like.
Perhaps while nursing your latte at Mea Cuppa.
